a principal philosophy and system of religion of Astoria, Queens based upon the teachings of a guy named Danocrates Allenopolos in the 21st century.

Never eat cotton candy in the rain.

My battery charger is a necromancer.

Do healthy vampires prey on vegans?

An annoying German designer is called a deutschbag.

Spanish dictionaries should be called Mexicons.

I’m writing a biography about Kevin Bacon in the sixth person.

Photographic memory is an outdated technology.

How did they describe a person who had a photographic memory prior to 1827?

I refuse to drink tap water, unless it’s disguised in a water fountain or as an ice cube.
I thought I was intelligent, but I have to spell-check Einstein’s name.

If pediatricians are doctors who treat children and pedophiles are adults who are attracted to children then pedestrians are people who ride children.

Are balloons appropriate at a funeral? I guess you send black ones or chocolates in a coffin-shaped box.

I need to work on my quads, my agent called me and said they needed a leg model for a film about FDR.

Eating an unwashed strawberry is like blowing a Mexican.

Autodidacts become hyperpolysyllabicsesquipedalianist because they are intellectually insecure.

If you eat a mermaid, are you considered a cannibal or a sushi lover?

Do cucumber farmers eventually become gay?

*********************************************************
I do not condone the misuse of the wonderful online community (which sounds like “gregslist.com“) established in San Francisco. However, this was a fun exercise in the world of make-believe. A tall, lanky, “friend” posted this on the aforementioned “gregslist“, and below are the actual responses.
*********************************************************

Rent: $1350

Looking for a Male or Female
No Pets
No Drugs (unless prescriptions, alcohol is fine)

A quaint bedroom in a five bedroom luxury townhouse
All the other bedrooms are unoccupied
Den with Fireplace, Library, and Home Theatre w/ Panasonic TH-65PHD7UY 65-IN. Plasma TV and state of the art Bang & Olufsen sound system
Home Office with Apple G5 w/ Flat Screen Monitor and Cable Modem.
(No access to any of these amenities)

Beautiful kitchen with marble floors, stainless steel countertops, and brand new appliances.
(Unfortunately, no cooking will be permitted)

Washer and dryer are located in the apartment. You will be allowed to utilize them, with the understanding, that your duty will be to wash all clothes (mine included) in the laundry room

The suite is very small in comparison to the other enormous, opulent rooms.
Dimensions are 5′x6′. No closets or windows.

Disclosure about myself:
I have a doctorate degree in Philosophy from Cornell

I have a Rottweiler (Sampson). He is my only friend in the world that I love (or trust for that matter)
He wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless someone tried to harm me or his favorite blanket.

I’m an extreme chain-smoker. I’ll deduct $50 off the rent if you agree to pick up a carton of cigarettes every week from Nat Sherman’s (42nd St and 5th Ave)

I’ve had writer’s block for ten years, and just need intelligent conversaations with a person who has original ideas not regurgitated opinions collected from all the books they have read.

If you feel this is the ideal setting for you email me at :
bengold401@hotmail.com

From: someone@aol.com
Sent: Saturday, December 4th, 2004
To: bengold401@hotmail.com
Subject: room

Your place sounds very interesting, I am giving consideration to your wonderful offer to pay $1350 a month to do something (I don’t think live is the right concept) in your closet space of 5′x6′ in between conversational and cigarette fetching duties. You not only have writer’s block, you have humanity block and reality block. Here’s a novel concept for you to consinder – sharing. Why advertise your plasma tv and new kitchen appliances if they can not be used. You sound like an arrogant, acquisitive egotist and feel sorry for the person stupid enough to pay you for this ridiculous arrangement.

(to be cont’d…waiting for more responses)

If John Hagee was a meteorologist, he would call it a Scategory 5 storm.

Lizz Winstead and the Shoot The Messenger crew invited me to be apart of this yesterday. It was good times. Best Easter I have had in awhile. Who wouldn’t love Lizz’s ham, great people and beer.

Check out all their videos at: wakeupworld.tv

Click here

My friend Ben is extremely overweight—over 400 pounds. He’s always on some ridiculous diet to shed his excess fat. Right now he’s only eating apples and canned tuna fish.

I told him if he really wanted to reduce his “weight” just wait until the Moon was directly overhead and he would “weigh” less because the gravitational pull of the Moon would be pulling up on his body.

“That’s awesome!”, Ben said then asked, “How much would I weigh then?”

I answered, “Oh…about…three hundred and ninety-nine point nine nine eight.”

“Oh—not enough to make a difference,” he gloomily responded as he bit into a over ripened green apple.

“Hey man, just think. In twenty years, I’m sure NASA will have a lunar colony. If you moved there, you would only weigh 67 pounds. You would still be big as fuck, but have the weight of an eight year old.”

“Fuck you!”

Click here

Fuck the middle man, I like to get my trans fat right from the source. Five gallons for only twenty-two bucks. What a steal! My favorite part of this shot is the worried Wal-Mart employee in the background.

Since I have a Treo, it’s very tempting to add the Unlimited Data Plan for $44.99 and have access to the internet 24/7 (Although I’m not sure if that is a blessing since I’m trying to ween off the web). Not to mention that the name of the pre-installed mobile-browser, Blazer, is very misleading. To me “Blazer” implies a speed equivalent to a samurai’s katana strike or the amount of time it takes Microsoft to make a million dollars…nanoseconds. This “Blazer” has the speed of a samurai underwater armed with a butterfly net or the amount of time it takes the Olsen twins to make a million dollars…minutes.

Theoretically, my monthly access charge is only $59 but with all the bells and whistles† (insurance, unlimited text messages, taxes, surcharges and other horse shit hidden fees) it explodes to $92. So the idea of paying $44.99 for a nineteen-ninety-seven-slower-than-dial-up connection does not sound that appealing.

I was quoted .002 cents per kilobyte by a Verizon rep for the Pay-As-You-Go Data Plan. That didn’t sound so bad so I decided to try it out. However, it’s actually .002 dollars per kilobyte††. Big difference. Not only is it a hundred times more expensive than I thought, you also burn up minutes from your total allowable minutes.

The first month I tried it, I rationed myself to extremely brief moments on the infamous World Wide Web to check out my Gmail with the new mobile app Google unleashed and managed to increase by bill by $39 in data usage charges. Fuck! When I say ‘brief’, I’m not exaggerating.

Everytime I hit the ‘Connect’ button on my phone, the theme from Mission Impossible pops into my head and I feel like I’ve initiated the launching sequence that will transform my phone into a thermal detonator.

It’s truly not healthy. I’ll be the only douche bag in existence to die of a heart attack due to thriftiness.

† Which is upsetting because I’ve never received one bell or a whistle from Verizon

†† Verizon Reps suck at math: here and here

I guess I should be grateful to have a car in NYC since 90% of my friends don’t have one (or I should take the hint, get rid of it and commit to mass transit). However, I still need it to get to gigs when I perform outside the city.

If potassium-packed bananas measured healthiness, my 1990 Honda Accord would be about to go into a Terry Schiavo-like coma.

It’s like the Millenium Falcon except that my shitty car can’t make a Kessel Run in under twelve parsecs. It barely is able to get to 88 mph. Even if I equipped it with a Flux Capacitor, I still wouldn’t be able to time travel because I would never reach the target speed.

No AC, the defroster is barely operational, my heater is stuck on the setting ‘Taint of Satan’, someone smashed my right side mirror, all my wheel covers have been stolen, an unknown leak keeps soaking my back seat, brakes are shot, my inside driver door handle is broke, my tape cassette player is broken (notice it’s not even a CD player) and I’ve heard kids on the subway with cellphone speakers better than my “sound system”.

Awesome!

Last week, my buddy and I were driving up to Albany. We were getting bored so we turned on the radio. As we were dialing through the stations, we came across a classic rock station that was playing Nine Inch Nails’ Closer. It made me feel like crap on two different levels.

One: They were playing NIN on a “classic” rock station which made me feel old.

Two: Hearing NIN on a victrola.

I envisioned Trent Reznor doing the Charleston and singing,
“I want to fuck you like an animal…boop-boop-pee-doo.”

Yo soy un cubito de pollo
Cuadrado
Quieto
Un pan sabroso
Envuelto en papel de lunche
Cerrado en pote
Sopa potencial
Algunos personas son minestrone
Algunos personas son chowder
Voy hacer caldo
Dejame agua y libertad

Translated by Ivette Almanzar

I am a chicken bouillon
Square
Unmoving
A flavored crouton
Wrapped in tin foil
Sealed in a jar
Soup potential
Some people are minestrone
Some people are chowder
I am broth to be
Give me water and set me free

In its original English version written by Dan Allen

I am a chicken cube
Square
Quiet
A flavorful bread
Surrounded in paper of lunche
Closed in pote
Potential soup
Some people are minestrone
Some people are to chowder
I go to make broth
Dejame water and freedom

Translated from Spanish to English using Google’s Language Tools:

Also in:

Italian

French

Spanish

Puerto Rican

Portuguese

Romanian

Estonian

German

Greek

Hebrew

Russian

Japanese

Mandarin

Tagalog

Finnish

Danish

Dutch

Polish

Geordie

Irish Gaelic

Afrikaans

Swahili

Ewe

Twi

Ga

English

Go back to the Tao of Dan

The Aztecs considered it a sex stimulant.

Vegans love it for its Omega-3 fatty acids.

Now everytime I’m with a girl that orders an extra order of guacamole, I think, ‘Great. A health-slut.’

June 1990

Check out Line 20

If you don’t believe me, click here

Since Pluto is offically no longer a planet, Earthlings stationed on Pluto were ordered to come back home. The majority of the colonists were elated about the government’s decision. According to a poll survey, the number one reason for wanting to return to Mother Earth was the length of day. One Plutonian day is the equivalent of seven Earth days. The colonists kept lamenting to their relatives through electomagenetic mail about the lethargic days that never seemed to end. Following at a close second in the poll was losing fingers due to freezing temperatures. Third place went to the new Sewage is Food program.

I heard Tony Bennett being interviewed on the radio and asked if he ever gets tired from singing his 1962 hit “I Left My Heart in San Francisco”.

He coyly responded with his own question, “Do you ever get tired of making love?”

As a comedian, I feel the same way about some of my jokes.

We (comedians) call these gems: our evergreen, “A” material. It doesn’t matter how old the joke is there is a high probablity that it will envoke laughter from an unsuspecting audience.

However, I don’t necessarily agree with Bennett’s analogy with love-making. Whenever I find myself spitting out a “classic” bit and get a great response, it feels more like I just mastubated to dirty jpegs instead of making love to an actual woman.

The fleeting, orgasmic feeling of laughter is immediately followed by the post-auto-coitus-clean-up-guilt because I reverted to an old joke rather than work on new material.

It gets the job done but I’d rather create new stuff.

Every time I perform in the South, somehow I manage to get surrounded by NASCAR fanatics meeting for the first time.

Ritualistically, they start asking each other in a droning redneck mantra, “Who’s your favorite driver? Who’s your favorite dryy-ver? Who’s your favorite dryyy-ver?”

Then every goofball starts sounding off:

“Rusty Wallace’s my man!”
“Man, I love Jeff Gordon!”
“I’m a Mark Martin Man!”

This is confusing because these quasi-homoerotic proclamations are always given by very “heterosexual” men who smell like WD-40, stale Budweiser, and campfire smoke.

There are millions of closeted NASCAR fans, trying to get out.

This is what they really are saying:

“Mark Martin’s my man, I used to like Kyle Petty but he wouldn’t shave his moustache and it kinda hurt when we kiss and stuff and Ernie Irvin broke my heart in 93’. That’s why I’m a Mark Martin Man, now! I tell you what boy, every time I see a Number Six, Viagra car, I get hard as a can of Copenhagen!”

This is my impression of a NASCAR fan in Ancient Greece:
“Who’s your favorite diety? Who’s your favorite dee-ahh-tee? Who’s your favorite dee-ahhh-tee?”

“Zeus is my man!”
“Man, I love Apollo!”
“I’m a Bacchus Man!”

“Bacchus is my man, I used to like Apollo, but we had to write poetry and shit and the Church of Aphrodite was fun but then I got gonorrhea. That’s why I’m a Bacchus Man, now! I tell you what boy, every time I see a fat guy surrounded by a bunch of drunken centaurs I get hard as a column at the Parthenon.”

I completely forgot that when I was twelve years old that I swore my allegiance to Jesus. What jogged my memory?
When Christocrat John Hagee, pastor of the 17,000 member Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, TX, endorsed John McCain, it raised my Holy Spirit from the dead.

If you are unaware of what Hagee represents, here are some interesting articles: here and here.

To sum up his beliefs: Harry Potter is heresy, Dan Brown is a shadow writer for Satan, if Gays were snot then Hurricane Katrina was God’s Kleenex, wants Christians to bear arms and call a jihad against Iran and the Pope helped Hitler.

Amazingly, this is the church I attended from 1983 to 1987. My head was actucally dipped by his chubby, well-fed, manicured, decorated with diamond-cluster ringed fingers.

Wow. I hope the Muslims aren’t right and Allah doesn’t hold this against me. I was a only a child.

However, I know that excuse will not hold up because Hagee made sure that we were very cognitive of our decision to accept Jesus Christ as our Lord and Saviour. The last thing he wanted of his congregation was to baptize their next generation like the ignorant Catholic sheeple. His followers must embrace a baptism like a rite of passage. He refused to baptize an infant.

When I was in the back, undressing and placing on my robe with the other un-saved heathen children I was very nervous. You could hear the murmur of the 3,000 members of the church sitting in their pew/stadium and the organist playing a solemn prelude as background music.

Hagee approached us as if we were at the Super Bowl. He barked in his signature cadence, “I refuse to baptize anyone who does accept the Grace of God. Do you all understand this!?”

“Yes!”, we said in unison.

“Do you except Jesus as your Lord and Saviour!?”, he yelled.

“Yes!”

“Say it!”

“We except Jesus Christ as our Lord and Saviour!”

I started to feel light-headed like we were a pack of Neanderthals getting ready to take down a saber-toothed tiger. I started to hyperventilate and I wasn’t the only one. It was infectious.

“Do you love Jesus?!” he bellowed.

“Yes!”

“Let me hear it!!”

“We love Jesus! We love Jesus!. We love Jesus!!”

“Now you have the Holy Spirit! Let us bring you to the congregation and save your souls at last!.”

At this point, I literally felt nauseous, I was overwhelmed. I vaguely remember what happened after that. I numbly followed the person in front of me. I remember the water being colder than I thought it would be. Thousands of people were on their feet, waving their hands and praising Jesus. He slapped his beefy hand on my forehead, placed his other hand on my back and then pushed me back into the water while holding my nose at the same time. The deafening roar of the congregation was silenced while I was purged of my “sins”. As I surfaced, I felt disoriented much like the thawing Han Solo after being carbon frozen by Jabba the Hut.

Again…if you [Allah] are reading this. Please take this into consideration. That goes for David Koresh, John Smith, the Jews’ mystery Messiah and anyone I’m leaving out.

I wish I wasn’t agnostic and commit to atheism. It would be so much more simple.